Pulling together memories with notes from LJ, Twitter, and my phone's logs. Kyna's doing OK now, home on painkillers and relaxing. I'm working from home today to take care of her.

9:40 PM: I get a call from one of Kyna's teammates using her cellphone, telling me that she "hit a wall, hard" and "hurt her neck". They want me to come down to the Auburn rink. I grab her favorite Eyeore and head out the door. Uninformed panic scenarios run through my head.

9:55 PM: On my way, I get a second call from Kyna's teammates, informing me that she's "really bad" and they are taking her to the nearest ER. I get directions to Auburn Regional Medical Center. Panic accellerated.

10:05 PM: Arrive at hospital. Kyna is in wheelchair, conscious, breathing raggedly from the pain. Her neck isn't hurt (whew!), but there are pains all down the right-hand side: shoulder, ribs, back, and stomach. Teammates embellish story details, including:1) the suggestion that she may have passed out BEFORE crashing into the wall a speed2) another teammate ran into her after the initial crash, slamming Kyna into the wall a second time.3) Kyna blacked out briefly and does not remmber the crash itself.Panic eases slightly, since I'm not seeing blood or projecting bony fragments and she can move all four limbs.

10:45 PM: Triage nurse starts processing Kyna. Teammates add a few details they didn't see fit to mention before:4) She seemed to "go limp" before the crash. Maybe she blacked out before hitting the wall?5) When she woke up , her eyes were rolled back in her head and she twitched all over for a couple seconds.Teammates leave.

10:55 PM: With nurse's assistance, we get Kyna into an ER bed. I start calling Kyna's parents to share the panic.

11:10 PM: ER staff set up tests, start paying a lot of attention to Kyna. One possibility mentioned is liver-punctured-by-broken-rib. Having some idea of how ERs manage their priority heap, this level of attention makes my panic meter start amping up again.

11:25 PM: Kyna is takien in for CT scans and Xrays. I'm left in the Radiology lounge with copies of Glamour and The Watchtower. Watchtower is dissapointingly bereft of truly crackpot articles.

12:10 AM: Back in the ER, Kyna now has a "trauma" bracelet. Apparently her drip of contrast fluid for the CT scan broke, spraying goo all over her head, which is now crusting on her face and hair. Painkillers are kicking in.

1:20 AM: Diagnosis: no broken bones, no ruptured organs. Painkillers, muscle relaxants, ice, heat, and "take it easy" for the next few days. I call Kyna's mom, and they start processing for checkout.

2:00 AM: User the iPhone to find a convenient all-night pharmacy. Head to the Renton Wallgreen's.

2:30 AM: Wallgreens pharmacy computers are showing Blue Screens of Death. Pharmacist calls another Wallgreens location, which is experiencing the same problem.

3:00 AM: The Swedish Medical Center pharmacy is not open all night.

3:30 AM: At the Queen Anne Bartell's, Kyna finally acquires the painkillers she needs to sleep.

4:00 AM: We arrive home. Kyna washes off the CT scan goo, then discovers that she still can't lay down comfortably. We prop her up on a couch, to finally get some sleep.